


home

by waveydnp



Series: interactive introverts [12]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Mention of recreational drug use, Sexual Content, a hint of somnophilia if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 22:45:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15982085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waveydnp/pseuds/waveydnp
Summary: They’ve got nothing to do today or tomorrow or the next day or the whole next week of days. Nothing to do but rest and recover and bask in the glow of this rather insane and incredible thing they’ve accomplished. Again.





	home

Dan’s hand is in Phil’s. They’re in public somewhere, Phil’s not exactly sure where. The edges of the picture are hazy, ill-defined. It doesn’t matter anyway. They’re holding hands, walking somewhere. He can hear birds chirping softly.

Dan looks beautiful. His hair is long, fluffy. He needs a haircut, but Phil hopes he won’t get one for a while. He likes when Dan looks soft like this. It makes him look young and it makes him look extra kissable. 

Phil leans in and kisses his temple. They’re still in public but it doesn’t feel scary. He likes that, likes spending time in his own head when he’s asleep, because in dreams things that are scary in real life don’t always have to feel that way. In dreams he can kiss Dan whenever he feels like it.

They’re sat on a bench now, a pond in front of them. There are ducks swimming around, eating the little chunks of bread that Dan throws to them. 

Ducks shouldn’t eat bread. Phil knows this. But somewhere in the back of his mind this must linger, memories of being a little boy and his mum giving bits of stale crust to throw to the ducks on their family nature walks. It’s a nice memory, and in his dream it’s ok for Dan to feed bread to ducks. These ducks aren’t real. They’re just wisps of happy feelings in Phil’s brain.

Dan’s cheeks are rosy. He’s wearing a grey jumper with little red cherries on it. He turns to Phil and smiles and the corners of his eyes are crinkled and Phil loves him so much. He just loves him so much.

And then it’s fading into the recesses of Phil’s mind and he can hear birds chirping for real. His subconscious becomes an awareness of where he really is, under the grey sheets of the moon room tucked up warm with his head laid on a pillow that has never been laid on by a stranger’s head. They’re not in a hotel or someone’s airbnb, they’re home.

It’s been so long since they’ve woken up in their own flat in their own bed with the pillows smelling like home. But today they finally are, and today they finally do. A little stale, maybe, but close enough that Phil feels a deep grounding kind of peace when he rolls forward and presses his face in deeper to breathe it in.

Dan is there, right there in front of him and Phil throws his arm around his waist and pulls him closer. Dan’s still dead asleep, as Phil should be. He can still feel the heavy weight of jet lag dragging his eyelids down, willing him to let them fall closed and sleep off the weird other worldliness of jumping through time zones like they mean nothing.

He frees the arm crushed under his own body and brings it up to sink his fingers into Dan’s curls, the other slipping under Dan’s pajama pants. He scratches his nails through that coarser kind of hair, the kind only he’s allowed to touch. 

He doesn’t actually feel sleepy so much as just… foggy. Hazy. They’ve been sleeping for probably close to a full calendar day at this point and he can feel the beginnings of a monster headache starting to thump at his temples. He knows if he goes back to sleep it’ll progress into something far worse.

The window is open and the air coming in is cool and the sky is grey and the light is muted. Phil has no idea what time it is, but it really doesn’t matter. They’ve got nothing to do today or tomorrow or the next day or the whole next week of days. Nothing to do but rest and recover and bask in the glow of this rather insane and incredible thing they’ve accomplished. Again.

He could get up, and maybe he should. He could have a nice hot shower and make coffee and maybe even breakfast for Dan. But Dan’s back is warm against Phil’s chest and Phil’s already got his hand in Dan’s trousers. Phil is hard because he always is when he wakes up.

He rolls forward a little and rocks his hips slowly into Dan’s body, pressing himself into the bottom of Dan’s ass cheek. Dan groans a quiet, mostly-still-asleep acknowledgement that Phil is awake and doing that thing he does so often where he wakes Dan up for sex. 

Phil never really grew out of the hormonal excitement of waking up half naked in a bed with a man he finds utterly irresistible. Dan likes to say it’s ridiculous, that an old man like Phil should have a little more self control, but Phil’s hand has moved down to wrap lazily around Dan’s cock and he’s already starting to get hard himself. Phil might not have any self control when it comes to Dan, but Dan’s hardly any better.

“You awake?” Phil whispers, kissing behind Dan’s ear.

“No,” Dan croaks.

Phil squeezes around Dan and revels in the little sighing noise he makes. He takes Dan’s earlobe into his mouth and gives it the gentlest of bites. “Can I touch you anyway?”

“Mm,” Dan hums his agreement. Phil really doesn’t have to ask anymore but he still does anyway, every single time. 

He moves his hand around the back and slides a finger between Dan’s cheeks. “Here?” he whispers. He wants more than their usual lazy handjobs today.

“Mm,” Dan hums again, then adds a little, “Please,” that Phil feels swirl pleasantly in his own stomach. He pulls Dan’s pajamas down right then and there and then his own just to feel their skin press together as he rolls his hips forward again.

“Are you gonna wake up more?” Phil asks, dropping little kisses up and down Dan’s neck.

“Uh uh.”

Phil smiles. It won’t be lazy handjobs, but it’ll still be lazy. That’s ok. Lazy means slow and slow means it’ll take longer. Longer means more time inside of Dan, both of them feeling good and connected and _together_ in a way he’s never been with anyone else and never will be again.

He rolls backwards and grabs the lube off the nightstand. It’s always there. They use it nearly every morning in one way or another after all. It’s the good kind, expensive, warming, gentle on Dan’s sensitive skin. Their favourite. It’s thin and oily and doesn’t dry into something sticky halfway through. It makes a bloody mess every time but it’s worth it, today especially, the first sex in their own bed in months.

Phil pours out a generous amount onto his palm and then says, “Gimme your hand,” to Dan and Dan does. He may be half asleep but Phil knows he’ll be playing with himself while Phil opens him up and it always feels nice when the tugs are slick.

He coats his fingers and then slides two of them down into the crack and just rubs, over the rim and then down further. He can’t do much as Dan’s legs are closed and likely to stay that way, but he’s used enough lube that he can slide into that space behind Dan’s balls and rub against it. 

Dan makes a little noise and Phil can hear the wet sound of his hand on his cock. He wants to watch, but he can’t. They’re both still snug under the cocoon of their covers, so Phil drags his fingers back to Dan’s hole and presses the pad of his index finger against it, feeling that tightness, that resistance. He pushes into it slowly, still to this day slightly in awe of how it seems to push him out and pull him in all at once.

He works the first finger in slowly and the second one a little less so. He knows Dan’s limits, knows exactly when it’s ok to push into the stretch with a little more insistence, when it’s ok to spread his fingers. He makes sure it’s slick and he makes sure it feels good for Dan. He doesn’t want it to feel perfunctory, doesn’t want it to feel like a means to Phil’s end. 

He can still hear the quiet, filthy hot wet skin sound of Dan wanking, if it can even be called that. There’s no rhythm to it and no speed, but he sighs every now and then and pushes back against Phil’s fingers so Phil doesn’t have to wonder if this is doing anything for him. 

When Phil pulls his fingers out Dan groans quietly in the back of his throat. “D’you want me to wear a condom?” Phil asks, lips on Dan’s ear, the head of his cock rubbing against Dan’s rim.

He almost always says yes. Today he says, “No. Wanna feel you.”

A warming rush erupts in Phil’s gut and he wastes no time gripping himself at the base and pressing the head inside. Dan hisses and throws a hand back to grip Phil’s bicep.

“Slow,” he grunts.

“Sorry,” Phil says, kissing Dan’s jaw. “Sorry.” He stays so still though the restraint it takes is painful. Hurting Dan is not an option, not unless he asks for it.

Sometimes he does. Sometimes he wants it rough, but not today. Today is sleepy gentle fucking, so Phil stays still with a quarter of his cock inside Dan’s body and waits.

“Touch me a little,” Dan says, taking Phil’s hand in his and guiding it round to the front. Phil squeezes and slides his fist up the already slick skin, working Dan over until he’s pushing his ass back.

Phil pushes slowly into the tightness, ready to stop whenever Dan tells him to, but those words never come. He stops himself when he gets about halfway in and pulls back. He keeps doing that, pushing in and pulling back and pushing in again a little further each time until he’s bottomed out as much as he can when they’re both lying on their sides.

Dan pushes Phil’s hand away and replaces it with his own. “Keep going slow,” he breathes.

Phil slips his arm under Dan’s and wraps it across Dan’s chest. He can do that, he can do slow. That’s what he wants today anyway.

“I dreamed about you,” Phil says.

“Yeah?” Dan says softly, an invitation for Phil to tell him more.

Phil smiles. He knows not everyone is lucky enough to have a partner who wants to hear the minute details of their mind’s nighttime wanderings. “We were feeding ducks and holding hands. It was nice.”

“And you still woke up with wood,” Dan teases. 

“Shut up,” Phil croaks. He slides in and out of Dan easily now, a warm dull pleasure thrumming on the surface of his skin. He feels stoned, floaty like he did that one time he and Dan shared a joint at a loud New Year’s Eve party. 

He loves this. They can’t always do it like this, there’s almost always a good reason to just use their hands or mouths instead, but maybe that’s part of it. Maybe he loves it so much because it’s become something of a rarity in this particular season of their lives. He loves everything they do and would never spend a second lamenting any aspect of their sex life, but there’s something about being inside that feels different.

There’s something about being inside that feels special, like for a little while they’re sharing a body in the same way they seem to share a soul.

Dan would roll his eyes if he could read that thought. Even Phil thinks it’s a little cheesy most of the time, but when they’re fucking slow and sweet like this in the bed they share it feels true. It feels right, like it was meant to be just like this, like they were always meant to find each other and live their life together. 

He pulls out all the way just so he can feel the intense intimacy of pushing in again. Dan groans, reaching back and cupping Phil’s ass, squeezing, pushing so Phil slides in deeper.

“Are you glad we’re home?” Phil asks. He needs to distract himself a little if he wants to maintain this pace.

“I guess,” Dan says. 

Phil’s not offended. He knows what Dan means. Touring is a rush. Visiting new countries and meeting fans and doing the show and all of it, it’s a dream come true, it really is. There’s a bittersweet feeling in saying goodbye to that.

And maybe for Dan it’s a little different. Maybe for Dan it’s a little easier to say that home is wherever they’re together. But Phil likes _this_ home, the permanent one that stays the same unless they decide to change it. He likes being amongst the things he and Dan have put here, likes waking up in his own bed and putting out seed for the pigeons and making his own coffee instead of having to order for it. 

“I am,” he whispers, dropping a kiss onto Dan’s shoulder.

“I know,” Dan says. “Now shh, I’m trying to have sex with my boyfriend.”

“Lucky guy,” Phil murmurs, bringing his hand down to wrap around Dan’s hip. He busies his mouth with sucking little red marks into Dan’s neck as he fucks in and out, slow but steady. The floaty feeling is starting to feel like a buzz, the delicious drag of Dan’s muscle all around his cock feeling a little more overwhelming with every thrust. 

Eventually he gives up on slow, gripping Dan by the waist to brace him against the harder thrusts. Dan doesn’t complain, he just starts babbling filthy words of encouragement. 

Phil comes first, right inside of Dan. Dan comes after, all over Phil’s fingers before Phil has even pulled out. 

“If we get up, like, right now we can save the sheets maybe,” Phil says. He likes to cuddle after, but he likes not having to do laundry even more. 

Dan groans, but when Phil pulls the sheets back he sits up. “Come on,” Phil says, “We’ll shower together and I’ll make you coffee.”

“We don’t have to do anything else today, do we?” Dan asks.

Phil shakes his head. “It’s pajama week redux.”


End file.
